


A Life of Mediocrity

by PompousPickle



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Part 3 spoilers, Slow Burn, primarily for Yamato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 02:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PompousPickle/pseuds/PompousPickle
Summary: The manager told them that only three of the six could make it to the final group, so Yamato quit. Or he tried to.(AU where Mitsuki didn't make it through the audition and Iori couldn't convince the president otherwise.)





	1. Wants

“You’re cutting half of us? Only three of us can make it to the final group?”

Yamato looked around the room at the five others. They had finished a quick game of basketball, getting to know each other. They were all good people, Yamato had quickly decided. Earnest, hardworking, if a little bit odd. He was easily the oldest, but none of them seemed to mind. And the manager was pretty cute. He could think of worse gigs to end up with, especially when it came to jobs that would help him forward his goals. But now…

“I’m so sorry!” The manager bowed over and over again, repeating her regrets. “We’ll have to hold a second audition. I’m so sorry for the trouble!”

Yamato looked at the five of them. Not even ten minutes ago, they were so full of life. Riku, the redhead, was bouncing around with stars in his eyes. The foreigner, Nagi, was chattering nonstop. The youngest- Tamaki, if he recalled correctly, had exceeding amounts of energy, let alone great reflexes and intuition. Even Iori and Sougo, two clearly more reserved people, seemed to be humming with the excitement of starting a new chapter of their life.

Now they all had their heads lowered, shoulders sunk in. But no one was backing down. They all still had fight in their eyes. All of them were determined to continue their journey, doing whatever it took to pursue their dream.  

Yamato was just getting in the way.

“Alright then,” he said suddenly, through the heavy silence that filled the room. “Then I’m pulling out. My reasons are…a lot like revenge. I’m not going to get in the way of someone with a more honest dream.” He said it so simply, shrugging of the pang in his chest as he walked towards the door. It just made sense. His motivations…well, there was no use getting in the way of someone else’s dream if he didn’t have to.

Tsumugi tried to stop him, of course.

“P-please wait!”

Yamato stopped, for only a second, staring back at the young woman before him. She paused for a long time, staring at him as she struggled to find the words that might make him stay. He looked over at the others, all patiently waiting. All of them staring, worry and fear in their eyes. Except Iori Izumi, his gray eyes glaring holes into Yamato’s skull.

Before the manager could open her mouth, Iori spoke up first. “Don’t bother, Manager. You wanted viable business partners, right? If he’s not willing, then he’s never going to be a good match. After all, it’s like you said Nikaido-san, there are others out there who want this much more than you do. People who would never walk out that door, no matter the costs.” His words cut, but his eyes even more so, conveying more emotion than Yamato thought possible in the young man. “If you can’t keep up with those dreams, then you might as well leave.”

“Iori-kun! Please watch what you say more carefully!” Sougo was the first to reprimand him. The others were quick to follow, Riku jumping in to start arguing with him. Arguing that Yamato had inadvertently caused. This was just going to be too much of a bother, he decided. Iori was right: there were far more deserving people in this world.

He caught Nagi’s expression as he started to turn around again. Disheartened, but understanding. He mouthed a silent plea to stay, and Yamato’s heart sank. He could only smile in apology. Really, it was for the best.

He couldn’t go on knowing he pushed anyone out. He had no reason to stay. No one’s words were reaching out to him. No one in that room could stop him.

So Yamato left.

\---

It was still fairly light outside by the time Yamato left. The sun was getting ready to set though, and it would be dark before the others finished the second audition. He shrugged, deciding it wasn’t any business of his. He had left. He was done with it.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice called out to him. “Hey! Are they done in there already?”

He looked over at a nearby bench, where a young man sat with a phone in his hand. He was looking intently at Yamato, examining him briefly before looking around Yamato’s shoulder, perhaps to check if anyone else was coming out.

Yamato almost reflexively stepped to the side, blocking the young man’s vision. “You some kind of idol otaku? A stalker or something?” He cracked a small smile, trying to play it off as a joke. But in truth, it _was_ a little suspicious. The man didn’t look particularly threatening, but Yamato had an idea of exactly how insane fans of the idol industry could get.

The man before him bristled, immediately shooting to his feet. “Hah?! You can’t just say that kind of thing to a total stranger!” He wasn’t very tall or imposing in any sense of the term. But he had a certain spark to him that made it clear that he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Yamato chuckled, but the other man simply frowned. “I’m waiting for someone,” he clarified, lowering his voice only a little as he sat back down on the bench. “It’s my brother’s first day. I thought we’d go out and celebrate after, but I’m not sure when he’ll be done.”

Yamato looked the guy over, more thoroughly this time. He had bright orange eyes, large and full of life and energy. Even in the dimming light, they seemed to sparkle. His hair was parted haphazardly and his clothes were bright and colorful. He had a lively air to him, and a slight frame that was nothing short of adorable. He really didn’t look like any of the would-be idols that Yamato had just met.

If he were really being honest with himself, he didn’t look like anyone Yamato had ever seen in his life.

“Ah,” he finally nodded, tucking the thought away for the time being. “Well you might be waiting for a while. They’re doing a second audition. It seems three idols are more marketable than six, so they’re looking to cut out three.” He paused, realizing his mistake. “Well, they’ll only need to get rid of two, now. I’m sure your brother will be fine.” 

The man blinked, taking it all in at once. “Second…audition?” He bit his lip for a second, glancing down at his phone to check the time, gears visibly turning in his head. Finally, he looked back up with a startled blink, as though someone had snapped in front his eyes. “Wait. Only two? You mean…”

“I walked out,” Yamato nodded with a shrug. He wasn’t sure what caused him to tell this guy. And he _really_ wasn’t sure what possessed him to sit down next to him on the bench. But he still lowered himself down, looking out to face the production office. “My goals really weren’t worth hanging onto if someone else had to lose their dream in the process, you know?”

“No,” the other man replied flatly. “I don’t get that at all. You just…came all this way, worked to get your foot in the door, and then walked away because you didn’t think you deserved it? I don’t understand that at all.”

“You don’t need to understand. It’s not really important.”

“Yes, yes it is,” he insisted. “You entered that building for a _reason_. You made it through the audition because they _saw_ something in you. Something that only _you_ could do. Sure, you’re handsome enough, I guess. But being an idol isn’t really about looking good, you know. It’s about being able to make people happy. And about being able to make people _dream_.”

His voice became distant as he spoke, as though he were being pulled to a different point in his life. A time where everything was okay. A time where everything was exciting. “They gave you the chance to do something that very few people ever get to do. And you walked away at the first obstacle.”

Yamato swallowed, wondering exactly what he was supposed to say to something like that. Instead, he simply leaned forward, getting a good look at the man’s face. He tilted his head with a small smirk. “You really think I’m handsome?”

“That’s what you got from that?! This isn’t a joke, old man!”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Yamato laughed, but his bench companion clearly didn’t see the humor. He looked back down at his phone, his jaw clenched and his face flushed over red. And if Yamato looked closely, he could almost see slight pinpricks of tears welling up in the man’s eyes, even in the dying light of day.

Yamato winced, feeling his heart somehow sink even lower than it already was.  Everything fell into place. “Iori Izumi,” he finally said, causing the man to look up with a start. Yamato nodded to himself; he had gotten it in one try. “That’s your brother, right?”

“Mitsuki,” he finally said with a nod and a tiny smile. “Mitsuki Izumi. Yours?”

“Yamato. Nikaidou,” he said, a little stiffly, wondering exactly what to say next. Mitsuki only nodded, and returned to staring at his phone. Yamato thought that maybe he should just leave, but they seemed too casual with each other now. It seemed wrong to just stand up and go.

Luckily, he didn’t have to ponder on it for long. “What tipped you off? About my brother, I mean. We don’t exactly look alike.”

He hummed, unsure of what to say. He couldn’t simply tell him that Iori had yelled at him for walking out, that he had mentioned there were others who wanted to become idols more than Yamato ever did. He couldn’t simply tell Mitsuki that he had stepped on his dream, as well as his brother’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two people who are as unafraid to speak as frankly as you two are. It’s got to run in the family, I figure.” He shrugged, and Mitsuki just snorted. “You don’t have to worry about him, you know. I’m sure he’ll make it through.”

Mitsuki nodded, wordlessly and expressionless. Yamato wondered if he had said something wrong. He wondered for a moment if he should apologize, before realizing that he had no idea what he would even apologize for. Instead, he looked up at the sky, and watched the sun slowly descend downwards.

“It wasn’t really Iori’s dream,” Mitsuki finally said. Yamato turned immediately, looking at his regretful smile. “It was mine. No. It’s _still_ mine. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” he then said, with a small shake of his head. “But he got scouted. I tried to audition too, of course. But I…” his voice faltered, and Yamato once again wondered what he should say. In the end, he had only gotten in the way of Mitsuki’s dream too. All for revenge.

And now neither of them had that chance.

“Mitsu…” he started, wondering if the nickname was okay. They weren’t friends. They had barely met, after all. Still, he moved his hand forward, gently touching his shoulder. It was a pale gesture, but it’s all he could think to do.

Mitsuki slapped his hand away, turning to face Yamato with a glint of determination in his eyes. “Cut that out,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I don’t need your pity. I’m the one who told Iori to continue with the group. He didn’t want to do it without me, but in truth, it’ll be good for him. He needs more friends, and he needs to learn how to open up and express himself more.”

He spoke like someone who spent a great deal of time thinking about it, like he had stewed on it for endless nights, trying to justify his feelings. Still, he seemed to believe every word, from the bottom of his heart.

“And besides,” Mitsuki shrugged, jumping off of the bench with a start. “I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot! There’s still auditions to go to, and scouting events to attend! I’ve got a long way to go. And in the meantime, I’m going to keep cheering you guys on.”

Yamato stared at him for a long moment, dumbly taking in the sight as the streetlights around them clicked on, as though making a spotlight for Mitsuki to stand in. And then suddenly his words registered. “What do you mean ‘you guys’? I walked out of there. I’m done for.”

“Hmmm,” Mitsuki mused as he stuck out his hand for Yamato to take. “Not much time has passed. I’m sure you could make it in there in time for one last audition. They’ll understand as long as you explain.”

“But why would I? I’m not in it to make people happy. Or to make people dream or anything as noble as the great Mitsuki Izumi,” he laughed bitterly, taking the outstretched hand anyway. It was warm, even in the hot air of the summer evening.

He stood up, and Mitsuki stared up at him, a small smirk on his face and his eyes still wet with tears. But there was a fresh determination there. And despite his height over the other man, Yamato felt small and completely out of his depth.

“Don’t be stupid, old man. You care about those guys in there, don’t you? You already knew enough about my brother to tell that we were related. And I’m guessing it goes that way for all of them. I need a guy like you in there to look after him.” Mitsuki mused, staring at Yamato’s face intently. Yamato almost took a step back, feeling the heat of the man’s gaze like a push to the chest. “Plus, I want to see what you got. I want to see if you’re worthy of standing on the stage. And I want to stand there alongside you, some day.”

Yamato felt breathless. This guy really was something else. “You know that would just make us rivals, right?”

Mitsuki laughed, his smile as bright as the sun sinking down beyond the horizon. “Then you better work hard, _Nikaido-san_. Or else I’m going to completely outshine you.”

Yamato blinked, wondering in that moment how _anyone_ could ever outshine Mitsuki Izumi.

\---

They had just finished Sougo’s audition when he walked back in, and everyone looked at him in equal parts shock and relief. Nagi was the first to run and embrace him, and then Riku was quick to follow. He pushed them both off, stealing a glance at the manager. She looked near tears, but a smile was firmly planted on her face.

“Yamato-san, if you don’t mind…what changed your mind?” Tsumugi asked, everyone else nodding along, eager to know what had caused him to turn around.

“I don’t know,” he said with a casual shrug and a wave of his hands. “I suppose I must have some kind of guardian angel, pushing me along the right path.”

He stole a glance at Iori Izumi as he said it, and the younger boy only furrowed his brow. “I see,” he said, their eyes meeting for a long moment. Finally, Iori nodded, as though understanding entirely. “Well then, good luck at the audition, Nikaido-san. You wouldn’t want to disappoint someone like that.” His face softened, into the slightest smile, and Yamato could just almost see the resemblance.

\---

“Now, we’re going to have to limit who can and cannot visit the dorms, of course. It’s a safety precaution,” Tsumugi explained hastily as she showed them around their new dorm area. “We don’t want any press stalking the area, so try to keep it reasonable and let me know if you expect visitors in advance!”

Yamato was the first to speak up. “What about immediate family? You know, like if I want to invite a parent, or a brother or sister?” He kept his eyes forward, and his face revealing absolutely nothing.

“Ah…I suppose that would be okay?” Tsumugi looked down at her clipboard, as though it would give her some kind of advice on the matter. “Still try to inform me, but parents or siblings shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Ah, does Yamato-san have siblings too?” Riku asked with a wide smile. “I want to meet them!”

Nagi and Sougo both nodded in agreement, and Tamaki raised an interested eyebrow. He simply waved his hand to dismiss the conversation with a laugh. “No no, Onii-san didn’t really have anyone in mind. I was just making sure, just in case someone else did.”

He could almost _feel_ the gears turning in Iori’s mind, and Yamato smirked.

\---

In truth, he didn’t have to wait as long as he thought to see Mitsuki again.

“Hey, can you really handle all that? That’s a lot for a guy your size,” Yamato said from the brand new couch, leaning back and sipping a beer as he watched the young man push parts of a bedframe through the front door.

“Oh shove it…up your…ass,” Mitsuki grunted as he pulled in the frame and dropped the heavy metal to the floor to take a quick rest. He gave a quick huff of breath, turning to Yamato expectantly. “You _could_ help out you know. Unless you think you’re going to throw out a hip, old man.”

Yamato laughed, saluting with his beer. “I’m already all moved in. And as I recall, you didn’t offer to help _me_ out.”

“You’re not my little brother,” Mitsuki shot back, almost immediately. He rolled his shoulders back, preparing for the rest of the trip over to Iori’s room. “And as _I_ recall, weren’t you voted leader of this little operation? Not doing such a great job now, are you?” He lifted his arms over his head as he continued to stretch, his worn t-shirt riding up his stomach, revealing just the slightest hint of his pelvis, right above the waistband of his pants.

Yamato finished his beer, forcing his eyes back up to Mitsuki’s face. He placed the bottle to the side of the couch and stood up. “You really know how to hit them where it hurts, don’t you Mitsu?” He laughed, walking over and grabbing the front half of the iron bedframe.

“I’m only speaking the truth,” he laughed in return, grabbing the back half of the frame and lifting it off the ground. “Well, heave-ho then. Show me that you earned the title, _Leader._ ”

The other man only sighed, but was unable to fight back his small smile. Mitsuki’s words were as sharp as he remembered, from the night they met. And just like back then, they seemed to cut through a fog that Yamato hadn’t even realized existed.

\---

A few hours later, Iori walked Mitsuki to the door, wishing his brother goodbye. He firmly told him to call before visiting, but insisted that he could visit any time. “Just let me know what days work best for you and I’ll be sure to schedule it in. The manager is still rather new, so I’m sure she’ll be able to work around any scheduling conflicts so that we can meet on a regular basis.”

“Alright, alright! I get it!” Mitsuki laughed as he gave his brother an affectionate hug. And for a second, his eyes glanced over towards the hallway, where Yamato was distinctly pretending not to watch. He pulled away, deciding to ignore the eavesdropper. “I’m rooting for you, Iori. You’re going to be great.”

Iori was silent, for a moment. “You are too, Nii-san,” he finally said, so quietly that Yamato could just barely hear it from his position.

Mitsuki didn’t respond to that, stepping away with a heavy swallow. He shook it off quickly, pasting a large grin to his face as he waved. “Well, I’ll see ya! Oh, and goodbye to you too, Yamato-san!” he said a little more loudly, blowing Yamato’s cover completely as Iori turned around.

Before Yamato could even attempt to explain himself, the other man was out the door.

Iori stared at Yamato for a long moment before walking forward to close the distance between them. “What was that about?” He glanced over at the door, to make sure Mitsuki was truly gone, before turning back to Yamato with a stern expression.

“Huh? Me?” Yamato looked around the room, feigning absolute innocence. “Onii-san was just heading to the kitchen to grab another beer. Passing through, I guess.”

“So you and Nii-san…” he trailed off.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Yamato waved him off, walking towards the newly-stocked kitchen, full of utensils and cooking supplies that Yamato had absolutely no intention of ever using. “We just met today, of course.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Iori said shortly, trailing after him. Yamato turned his head lightly, with a single eyebrow raised. “He told me that you met on the day of the audition. He wanted to know all about your face when you found out that it was a test, that none of us were going to get fired.”

Yamato could almost _picture_ Mitsuki’s sadistic grin as the two brothers gossiped about him. “That little…” he muttered, more to himself than to Iori as he opened up the fridge. He pulled out a new bottle of beer and a fresh bottle of water. He passed the water over to Iori, who looked at him quizzically, despite taking it. “You’ve been moving boxes all day. You need to keep hydrated. Mitsu told me to look after you, after all.”

“…Nii-san did?” His entire mood shifted, with those simple words, and Yamato was wondering why he hadn’t said it sooner.

“He didn’t tell you about that, huh?” Yamato laughed as he popped off the bottle cap against the ledge of the counter. “He did. Forced me to walk back into the audition and everything. You two are pretty close, huh?”

“I…I guess,” Iori conceded, looking down at his hands as he unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “He’s…” he paused, unsure of his next words. “Being an idol is Nii-san’s dream. Not mine. He met legendary idol Zero when he was young. I don’t remember but…he talked about it all the time. He still does, actually.” He smiled fondly, thinking over all of the things his brother told him about that day.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I was scouted for an audition and we both attended but…”

“Yeah. I got that.”

“Right,” Iori nodded. “I didn’t want to do it without him. I tried to turn them down, but Nii-san grabbed the phone from my hands and accepted before I could say anything at all. Even though he already knew he didn’t make it through, he…”

He trailed off, taking a long swig of water as he thought over his next words. “I tried to ask President Takanashi to reconsider. I even gave him an ultimatum, but nothing worked. In truth, I suppose Nii-san would have never forgiven me even if it _did_ work. If he found out…” his eyes grew for a second, staring at Yamato and realizing exactly what he was saying.

Yamato merely laughed. “I’m not going to tell him.” Iori only nodded, silent but trusting. “Still, I guess we have a lot in common. We both tried to quit, and Mitsu kept pushing us forward anyway.”

A traitorous part of him reminded him that they both stole his chance, and stepped in his way. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Iori thought about it too. The boy seemed to think a lot, despite his age. And he knew that Iori had realized, just like he had, that he was taking away something from Mitsuki that he could maybe never get back.

“That’s why I’m going to keep going,” Iori said suddenly, finishing off his bottle of water quickly. “Nii-san is working hard at the sweets shop, and still going to auditions whenever he can. And still making time to see me. So in return, I’m going to become a superstar, and become an idol to surpass even Zero in his heart. Please try to keep up, Nikaido-san.”

“You’re a pretty serious bro-con, huh,” Yamato chuckled to himself, shrugging off Iori’s withering glance. “But yeah, you can count on Onii-san,” he said casually, not knowing if that was an empty promise or not. But something inside of him wanted to _try_ , for all of IDOLiSH6. And for the man that seemed to be pushing them forward every step of the way.

\---

That night, he was another bottle of beer in and laying back on his brand new bed, in a room he had never slept in before. He thumbed through tabs on his phone, trying not to think about anything at all, in some vain attempt to sleep.

_“I’m going to become a superstar, and become an idol to surpass even Zero in his heart.”_

Yamato tossed those words over in his head, and realized- with a good amount of dread- that he wanted to do the same. He tried not to think about that either, but it kept popping up regardless.

Finally, he opened up a search bar and typed in _Izumi_ and _sweets shop_. Only one real result popped up, a cute sweets store not too far from the heart of the city. He snorted to himself, putting his phone on the nightstand, face down. He grunted and reminded himself that he wasn’t that desperate. He could easily get the other man off of his mind. And in a few days, he would be too busy to think about him at all.

\---

He managed to hold off for three whole weeks before he walked through the door of the café. The whole place was dainty and bright, decorated like a western cake shop, with soft pastel décor and various sweets lining the counters in glass display trays.  

The bell attached to the door tinkled gently, and Yamato looked around the shop. There was no one behind the counter, and a few separate parties were scattered throughout the café, eating and chatting amongst themselves.

“Ah! Welcome! I’ll be right with you!” a familiar voice shouted from the back. Yamato slowly approached the counter, hating the way his heart picked up pace just from hearing his voice.

Mitsuki came out in a rush, wearing an apron over a white button-up shirt and orange tie. He untied it in a hurry, putting it to the side as he straightened out his uniform and combed his fingers through his hair. He slid to the front of the counter, with a huge grin of his face as he caught his breath. “Sorry about that! I was taking some scon-“ his chipper voice instantly flooded with recognition as he made eye-contact with Yamato. “What are _you_ doing here?”

He seemed so caught off-guard as he said it, breaking from his natural cheerfulness and into a sharp candor. Yamato only chuckled. “Ah. You found me out. And here I thought I had disguised myself so well.”

“You’re wearing a hat and glasses,” Mitsuki pointed out. “You already wear glasses normally. You’re _wearing your normal glasses underneath,_ you idiot.” He laughed as he leaned forward across the counter and pulled the large fake frames off, thumbs brushing against Yamato’s temples gently as he did so.

This time Yamato blinked in surprise, staring at the other man. Mitsuki froze, realizing his playful familiarity in an instant. He pulled back from Yamato’s face, handing over the glasses and looking around the café, as though to check if anyone else saw his display. As though he were ashamed. “You still didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”  

Yamato took the glasses and slid them back on his face.  They hadn’t debuted yet, so he didn’t see much reason to put any effort into a disguise. No one had recognized him on the way here, after all. Mitsuki was the only one who had called him out on his lazy attempts at hiding, and a part of him liked it that way. “I was in the area, and I had a hankering for sweets.”

He raised a single eyebrow. “You? A fan of sweets?”

“Coffee, then.”

“Okay, _that_ I can believe,” Mitsuki nodded with approval. “One coffee! Coming right up, then,” he added with a wink and a salute. He had such an easily air of hospitality about him. A charisma that seemed to light up the entire café. Yamato could almost picture him on TV, announcing his group’s next song before an adoring audience.

He wondered if he’d ever get a chance to see it.

“So how’s it going?” Mitsuki asked from over his shoulder, glancing back at Yamato as he fiddled with the coffee maker. 

“Ah,” Yamato took off his baseball cap, running his hands through his hair. “I guess pretty typical? We did some street performances yesterday that seemed to catch a bit of attent-“

“No, I know about all of _that_. Just who do you think I am?” Mitsuki laughed and grabbed for his apron while the coffee started to brew. “How’s my brother? Is he making friends with the others? Are you guys eating okay?”

Yamato spat out a laugh. “You’re really the perfect big brother, aren’t you? You’re giving Onii-san a run for my money.”

“It’s my job,” Mitsuki shrugged, tying the apron around his waist. He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, leaving Yamato a little bit of time to think about his answers.

Iori was doing well, he decided. He was as high strung as always, but he was opening up more and more every day. He and Sougo had something of a rapport, and he was now helping wake Tamaki up in the morning so they could go to school together. He didn’t take too kindly to Nagi’s excited antics at first, but soon enough, he had started working the group schedule around new Magical Kokona episodes.

And with Riku…

Yamato chuckled, wondering if Iori had even _noticed_ the way his smiles had softened around the redhead. If he had noticed how easily he got dragged along into Riku’s schemes, or the way his eyes seemed to drift over to Riku during = every single group practice. It was cute, though he didn’t know how he was going to tell Mitsuki that he suspected his brother had a crush on their group’s center.

As far as the food question was concerned…

“What’s with that awful face, Old Man?” Mitsuki interrupted his thoughts by putting a hot mug of coffee in front of him at the counter. “You look like someone just punched you in the stomach.”

“Hm?” He looked up, slightly startled. “Ah, it’s nothing! I was just thinking about your questions. I’m really trying to give them some thought, so be proud of me.”

“It’s not like they’re particularly difficult questions…” Mitsuki tilted his head. He reached around, pulling out a sleeve of wax paper and grabbed for a scone, still sitting on top of a metal cooling sheet. He must have brought the sheet in while Yamato had spaced out. “Here,” he handed it over. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“You really don’t…”

“It’s a new recipe. You don’t look like someone who is super fond of sweets, and I need a guinea pig who will be honest with me. Iori will gobble up anything I set in front of him, and my parents will just tell me it’s good no matter what. So don’t hold back.” His words were stern, but there was a softness in his eyes as Yamato grabbed for the scone. Even as Yamato broke off a piece to pop in his mouth, he couldn’t look away.

It was still hot, but just cool enough for Yamato to taste the flavor. Savory and thick with butter. There was a flakiness to it, with just a hint of sweetness from the red berries inside. He took another bite, this time directly from the scone itself. He took another bite, looking up at Mitsuki, who was smiling warmly as he watched him eat.

For the first time, there was silence between them. No banter, no heavy emotions, no sharp-tongued quips. Just an affable silence brought together by mediocre coffee and warm scones. And something inside of Yamato twisted, begging him to stay like this for the rest of his life.

“Good?”

“I think so. I can’t tell. I’m going to need to try another one to be sure.”

“You’re the worst.” Mitsuki’s voice didn’t hold any ire, and his eyes were carefully trained on Yamato, and Yamato suddenly felt a little self-conscious. He rarely ever felt that way, but Mitsuki Izumi had a way of bringing all kinds of emotions out of him. “So about Iori…”

“Ah, of course, Ichi is doing well, I suppose,” Yamato carefully hid the disappointment in his voice. This was all about his brother, after all. Yamato was little more than a glorified spy. Still, if it meant Mitsuki would keep him as a part of his life, then he’d tell him everything he wanted to know. So he grabbed his coffee, took a long sip, and did exactly that.

\---

Things sped by after that. There were meet and greets, TV appearances, and an unfortunate concert in the middle of a storm. There were complications and there were practices upon practices. Yamato had a hard time keeping up with it all. Things didn’t seem to slow down. And before he knew it, he had nearly forgotten about his blossoming crush on Iori Izumi’s older brother.

That is, until he heard him stomp through the dormitory door.

“Nii-san! You have to call before you come over!”

Yamato immediately slid into the kitchen, hesitantly peering out into the living area, remaining as hidden as possible. He felt stupid for hiding, and felt even dumber for the pounding in his chest, but he couldn’t simply rush out there to greet the other man.

“Eh? Are you telling me you _don’t_ like your big brother stopping by with extra cookies from the shop?”

“No!” Iori said, all too quickly, stepping in front of Mitsuki as he walked through the door. “It’s not that! It’s just…”

Mitsuki gently pushed him to the side, looking around the living room with understanding blossoming in his eyes.

They had been busy. Sougo did his best to keep everything tidy, but with the impending debut of Mezzo, even he had started to get caught up in his own work. Takeout containers were scattered here and there, and there was an impressive stack of empty pizza boxes neatly piled next to a trashcan full of convenience store wrappers. 

“Yamato-san…” Mitsuki started slowly, looking around the room. Yamato’s blood ran cold at the sound of his name, but he didn’t move from his position. “Yamato-san told me that Sougo-kun was doing most of the cooking.”

Riku and Tamaki were both sitting at the couch, and they glanced at each other knowingly. Riku then looked over at Iori, who bit his lip. “He is!” Riku said quickly, putting down the comic he had been reading with a big smile. He seemed to understand Iori’s facial expression immediately, covering all tracks. “It’s just he’s been pretty busy lately! We eat well, don’t worry Mitsuki-san! We love the meals Sougo makes us!”

“Eh? But I thought you hated all that spicy stuff, Rikkun,” Tamaki looked up from his homework and blinked. “Yama-san’s always gets us takeout, right Iorin?”

“Is that…is that right?” Mitsuki laughed, slowly turning to Iori with thinly-concealed furry building in his eyes. “Tell me, _Iorin_ , where is Yamato right now? I’d like to have a _word_ with him about your current meal plan.”

Yamato ducked into the kitchen entirely, his brain cycling through every single thing that he could possibly do in that moment. It was only a matter of time before Mitsuki found him. He hadn’t exactly lied, of course. Sougo _did_ do most of the cooking, whenever they had a chance. And everyone did their best to eat it with a smile on their face. It’s not like anyone else had much experience cooking. Nagi was trying to learn, but it was a slow process.

Just then, a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Ah! Yamato-san!” Sougo greeted him warmly as he started to step into the kitchen. “I was going to heat up some leftovers for lunch. Did you want anything?”

Yamato lunged forward, trying in vain to silence the man before him. But it was too late. He already heard footsteps running towards the kitchen. He ducked behind the kitchen island, trying to make himself as small as humanly possible.

It didn’t work.

“You _lied_ to me Old Man!” Mitsuki shouted, storming into the kitchen and walking straight for Yamato’s hiding spot. He grabbed onto the man’s arm and hoisted him up with a surprising amount of strength. “You really expect a group of growing boys to become healthy idols while living off of _takeout_?”

“Right because healthy eating sure did help you grow up big and stro-ow ow ow! That’s my arm! I need that!” he started hissing in pain as Mitsuki latched his other hand around his arm, twisting his hands in opposite directions, a sadistic grin growing on his face.

“Ah! M-Mitsuki-kun!” Sougo stepped in, drawing Mitsuki’s attention in a flash. “My apologies! My cooking really isn’t everyone’s tastes, I know. I try to adjust but Yamato-san really does help!”

Mitsuki smiled, genuinely this time, his mood making a complete turn-around in an instant. “I see! I’m glad everyone has a guy like you, Sougo-kun! We might have to get you some new recipes though. Iori has quite the sweet tooth, and I suspect the others probably do too. I can make a few things and maybe we can test a few things out?”

Sougo visibly sighed in relief, a gentle smile on his face as he nodded. “That sounds wonderful. It’s been so crazy around here lately. Any amount of help would be more than appreciated,” he added with a bow.

“You don’t have to be so formal! As far as I’m concerned, we’re friends, and I’m happy to help!” Mitsuki waved him off, and Sougo gave a small nod. Yamato chuckled, it would certainly be something to see those two interact in the kitchen; he imagined they’d get along quite well in no time.

The mood was broken the second Mitsuki turned back to face Yamato. “Well, let’s get going, you lazy geezer. We’re going to the market. And since you seem to have _so_ much money for takeout and pizza, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind putting your money towards a _couple_ of ingredients.”

Their eyes met, and it became very clear that Mitsuki didn’t intend on buying just a “couple” of anything. It also became clear that Yamato didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. And a strange part of Yamato’s heart fluttered, realizing that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

\---

“You never told me that you could drive,” Mitsuki said idly as they walked the aisles of the supermarket. Yamato shrugged, leaning over the cart as Mitsuki threw in a few cans of beans. The cart was filling up at an alarmingly rapid rate, and Yamato was helpless to stop it. But as long as he didn’t have to actually cook the ingredients he was buying, then Yamato could at least foot the bill.

“It never came up. We don’t actually talk that often,” Yamato pointed out, almost flinching as he said it. He wondered if he sounded too bitter, too desperate for more. They had exchanged numbers, but Mitsuki never messaged anything substantial. Usually just comments on their latest show or appearance. “Besides, I don’t really like to be the driver, to be honest.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The driver isn’t allowed to drink, after all,” he said with a shrug, as though it were completely obviously.

Mitsuki rolled his eyes, but Yamato caught the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re ridiculous. Can all you ever think about is beer?”

“Depends. Can I convince you to buy me a six-pack if I say yes?” He waggled a single eyebrow.

“You’re the one footing the bill, idiot!” Mitsuki leaned over, whacking him in the arm with a loud laugh, and Yamato laughed in return.

They calmed down a moment later, and Mitsuki went to grab a few more items. “That’s cool though. I’ve been thinking about learning, actually. It’d be nicer than having to wake up at the crack of dawn to get to the train. Some of these auditions are halfway across the country, I swear!” He laughed it off, but Yamato could almost see the exhaustion in his eyes as he said it. He wondered how many the man had gone to, exactly. He wondered how much rejection he had faced. He wondered how much more he could take.

“I could drive you,” he said, so suddenly that it surprised himself. Mitsuki blinked up at him, dumping another armful of ingredients in the cart. Immediately, Yamato began to backpedal, wondering if he said something wrong. “If it’s on a day off, of course. And don’t expect me to get up any earlier than seven in the morning. And you’ll owe me a beer afterwards.”

“You’d seriously do that for me?” Mitsuki asked, ignoring all of Yamato’s usual deflections, cutting straight to the point.

Their eyes met for a long moment, Mitsuki’s wide and full of wonder, as though searching for something in Yamato’s face. The other man just sighed. “Yeah. I mean, you’re helping us out, right? So it’s the least I can do.”

And in that moment, Yamato wondered exactly how true that actually was.

\---

It started to occur to him, after that, how easy it would be to end all this. He had plenty of names in the entertainment industry saved in his phone. He knew piles of people, all willing to pull strings and make exceptions. They’d do anything, here and there, just for a chance to get in his father’s good graces.

But that would mean he’d _also_ have to get in his father’s good graces.

In the times that this thought would occur to him, Yamato would pull out his phone. He’d stare at his father’s name, blazoned in pixelated letters on the screen.  It would take maybe three phone calls, and it could be over. He could get Mitsuki in the door. He could make his dreams come true. All he had to do was throw away his hatred, and swallow his pride, and become the fawning perfect son that his father always wanted him to be.

And then he would close his phone, and grab his coat, and make his way over to the Izumi sweet shop to buy something to get it off his mind.

\---

FROM: MITSU  
_How is he? He still won’t pick up the phone._

Yamato glanced towards Iori’s dorm room and sighed. Things were a mess, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Iori had forgotten his lyrics completely, blowing the TV performance entirely. He ran off, and they had only been able to find him thanks to Sougo, who insisted that they call and ask Mitsuki where he might have gone. And they only brought him back thanks to Nagi and Tsumugi, who managed to keep them all strong in the face of absolute despair.

Yamato didn’t really do much of anything at all in the whole ordeal. And he certainly had no idea what to do now. Iori was doing better, but he barely grabbed anything to eat. The entire dorm was eerily silent. Both Riku and Tamaki managed to speak to Iori, but with limited success. He had barely come out of his room, and Yamato was completely out of his depth.

TO: MITSU  
_maybe you should come over_

Mitsuki messaged two minutes later that he was already dressed and on his way.  

\---

Forty minutes later, and Yamato left his room to grab a cup of coffee. He spotted Riku and Nagi, both with their ears pressed against Iori’s door.

“Guys, you can’t just-“

“Shhhhhhhhh!” Nagi quickly shut him up, pressing a finger to his lips. Riku nodded, shuffling closer to the door, as though pushing his whole body against it would help him hear better.

Yamato rolled his eyes, thinking himself better than to just go and invade such a private moment like that. Still, he didn’t look down on the others either; they were worried. And they wanted to know that Iori was going to feel better soon. It wasn’t any of his business though, so he tried to keep on walking.

But he could still hear their voices through the wall as he passed, hushed and private, but still abundantly clear.

“ _I’m sorry. Somewhere down the line, Nii-san’s dream became my dream too.”_

_“Don’t be sorry! That’s good! That’s what I wanted, Iori!”_

_“I know but…you…you need to be up there too. You deserve…I don’t know that I can do this without you anymore.”_

Yamato kept walking, his heart sick. He pushed his hand into his sweater pocket, feeling his phone underneath his fingertips. He kept walking, wondering how much longer before he couldn’t bear to go on without Mitsuki either.

\---

Mitsuki called in his favor not long after, requesting Yamato drive him to an audition nearly forty minutes away from the city. Yamato almost refused, calculating the exact amount of sleep he’d be losing from his day off. But in the end, he was helpless to say no.

He still intended on forcing Mitsuki to buy him beer though, he reminded himself as he sat outside the audition room, staring at the clock on the wall.

A few minutes later, Mitsuki bounced out with a massive smile on his face. Yamato cracked a smile in return, tilting his head in curiosity. His own pulse was racing, wondering if this was finally it. Maybe Mitsuki would call Yamato his lucky charm. Maybe they could stand on stage together. Maybe he would get to see Mitsuki this happy all the time.

“They said they’d keep in touch! I totally aced it.”

Yamato’s heart sank as quickly as it rose. Mitsuki spoke cheerfully, as though he really believed that they would call him back. However, Yamato wasn’t sure that he really did. He had done this enough times to know what a “no” sounded like. Still, his spirits seemed to be high, full of the optimism that always seemed to make him shine.

“Come on. It’s my day off and you owe me a drink.” Yamato stood up, grabbing for his keys. The other man huffed, but he didn’t put up a fight as they got into the car.

A few minutes later, and Mitsuki finally spoke up. “I heard you got scouted for an audition too.”

Yamato froze, wondering if Iori had told him that. Mitsuki seemed to be pretty close with all of the members of IDOLiSH6 at this point, and he wasn’t exactly sure who was messaging him what at any given time. Still, it was true. And he supposed there was no point in lying about it. “Yeah. I guess. Probably not going to go for it though. It seems like a lot of work.”

“Like waking up at six in the morning to drive a friend to an audition?” Mitsuki scoffed, but Yamato firmly kept his eyes on the road. “I really don’t get you at all.”

“There’s not much to get. I eat. I sleep. I drink beer. I watch porn. Sometimes I even sing and dance, when it suits me,” he chuckled, punctuating his words with a shrug.

“You never want to do anything else? You’re content just cruising by?” Yamato glanced over at Mitsuki, staring at him intently from the passenger’s seat, arm dangling out the window as the cool fall air filled the car.

Yamato frowned. He _was_ content cruising by, for a while. There was not much point in doing much else. He was content to move forward, to expose his father for the liar he was, and then move on with his life. Maybe hole up in a nice desk job somewhere, and drink his days away. He could have walked out of that audition, and left it all behind.

But Mitsuki had stopped him, and Yamato had let him. And now they wanted him to audition for some drama role, and become the spitting image of the man he had come to absolutely despise.

“Tell me, Mitsu, why do you work so hard? Going to auditions, working at the shop, coming over to the dorm to help cook dinners. Don’t you wish _you_ could just put your life on cruise control sometimes?”

The man looked out the window for a moment, the air brushing back his bangs. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Yamato expected to be berated, or even playfully slapped. But instead, Mitsuki only turned back to him with a small smile. “Nah,” he said resolutely. “If I only work moderately hard, I’ll only be moderately happy. So I work as hard as I can, so I can be as happy as I can. It’s pretty simple.”

It was a nice sentiment, if Yamato were being honest. But it would be a lot more effective if all that hard work were actually breeding results, if Mitsuki were actually making his dreams come true. Instead, they were both on stand-by, whether they liked it or not.

The only difference was that Yamato had put himself there by choice. And for the first time in his life, he was slowly getting tired of it.

\---

He accepted the acting offer the very next day. Everyone smiled and laughed, and Tsumugi clapped her hands in sheer delight. Their joy made Yamato feel warm, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. Like Mitsuki should be there, somewhere in the middle of it all, smiling along with them.

\---

Yamato walked in after a long day of filming, and immediately was accosted by the smell of something delicious. He was exhausted, and was content to simply grab a beer and collapse on the couch for the next three hours, but the smell of a fresh meal being cooked suddenly had him wide awake.

Sougo’s cooking was usually a lot stronger in scent, almost abrasive. Even with the new recipes, there was something strong and lively about it. And Tsumugi announced when she was coming over well in advance, to avoid any awkward situations that come from entering an all-male down without warning. His heart skipped a beat as he casually strolled towards the kitchen, under the pretense of grabbing a drink.

Mitsuki looked up at him with a small smile as grabbed some minced garlic and threw it into a pot. “Hey,” he said, all-too-casually. As though he were always in the dorms cooking dinner. As though he lived there.  

“Hey,” Yamato said slowly, opening the fridge and grabbing for a bottle, not taking his eyes off of the other man. “Aren’t you working today?”

Mitsuki only shrugged, and that was Yamato’s first clue that something was very wrong.  

“My parents wanted me to take the day off.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, but there was no malice. “I tried to go in anyway but they just pushed and pushed and pushed. I didn’t really have anything else to do, so I got Nagi to let me in. We watched a few episodes of his show and now I’m here.”

Yamato only nodded. It was nice, he decided, that the dorms had become a place where Mitsuki could just come to relax when he needed to get away. He had said a long time ago that he wanted Iori to spread his wings and make new friends. But Yamato wondered if Mitsuki hadn’t needed to make some friends of his own as well.

“It’s funny though,” Mitsuki continued, grabbing for the pepper and grinding it into the pot. “Even when my parents try to shoo me away, and get me to stop cooking, I still end up behind the oven anyway. I guess it’s just something I’m good at, huh? It’s nice. To be good at least one thing.”

And that’s when Yamato realized just how broken Mitsuki’s smile really was. “Mitsu…” he started, but he had no idea what to say. He took a step closer, wondering if it would be okay to touch him. The last time he tried, so many months ago, he was shoved off. He was told not to pity him.

But now, Yamato didn’t pity Mitsuki at all. He was _jealous_ of him. He was so jealous he could barely stand it. It made him sick. He wanted to feel as deeply as Mitsuki felt. He wanted to work as hard as Mitsuki did. He wanted to have dreams. He wanted to be loved, and he wanted Mitsuki to love him as much as Yamato loved Mitsuki.

But all the while, he hated himself for having such selfish thoughts, even as the other man wiped away his tears. “Sorry. Sorry, you don’t need to be hearing this. Or seeing me like this. I just…I’m tired, you know?” He looked up at Yamato, fresh tears already welling up in his eyes, despite his best efforts. “I’m tired of getting those phone calls. I’m tired of getting people’s hopes up just to fail audition after audition. I’m tired of not being good enough.”

Yamato couldn’t take it. He felt something in him snap. Something that had been straining since the very first day he met the other man. He surged forward and took the other man into his arms. He clung to him, holding fast as Mitsuki slowly began to let go, a tiny sob escaping from his mouth.

He knew Mitsuki would hate him for it later, that he’d be embarrassed. But for now, Yamato could feel the man relax into his hold. And he reveled in how perfectly Mitsuki fit into his chest, and how warm his arms were as they wrapped around his back. He rested his chin against the top of Mitsuki’s head, moving his hand to card through his hair gently.

He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. He just stood there, hanging onto Mitsuki Izumi like both of their lives depended on it. He simply couldn’t find the words to say. There was nothing _to_ say. Because there was no way to tell someone how perfect they are when the rest of the world didn’t want to believe it.

\---

Mitsuki went home after cleaning the kitchen. Everyone had gushed over his meal, and the cake he baked earlier in the day was reduced to crumbs before Yamato could even get a slice. Mitsuki laughed when Yamato complained, promising to bake another. And when he smiled with the others, it seemed so bright, and so genuine. And then his eyes caught Yamato’s and the smile softened to something heavier, something more meaningful.

Yamato only nodded as the man walked out the door.

He replayed the scene in his mind, laying back on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, counting the pockmarks and stains as he thought about Mitsuki’s smiles, and Mitsuki’s tears.

Mitsuki.

He looked over at his phone, and grabbed it.

He could never confess after this, he realized. If the media found out they were involved, it would be the end of both of them. Yamato would be the bastard child who used his connections to get his boyfriend through the door. Mitsuki would be the gold-digger who seduced the son of a famous actor. He makes this phone call, and there could be nothing else after it. This would have to be the gesture of his feelings. And it had to be one that Mitsuki never found out about.

But he couldn’t live every single day keeping Mitsuki Izumi all to himself. Everyone in the world needed to see that smile, and feel that warmth that he got every time they spoke.

He would never stop hating his father, he swore to himself. He would never stop trying to get his revenge. But the strange thing about dreams was that the longer it took to get what you wanted, the more your dreams began to shift and change. The further away the old desires seemed to become. And the less difficult it became to pull up your contacts list, scroll down to an old familiar name, and hit the “call” button.

“Hello? Is Chiba Shizuo there?”

…

“Yes. It’s important.”

…

“Tell him it’s his son.”


	2. Needs

“So, I hear that you save all of your fan letters and read them with your mother whenever you visit.” Mister Shimooka grinned at Mitsuki Izumi, urging him to respond for the studio audience.  

Mitsuki laughed, tousling his hair a little with a lopsided grin. He glanced over at the camera, and the audience sitting behind it. The stage lights made it almost impossible to see their faces, but he could just make out a few flecks of orange pen lights, held by fans patiently waiting for his response. He grinned, never wanting to keep them waiting.

“Don’t say it like that!” He laughed and waved the TV personality off. “I read them as soon as I pick them up from the office, just like everyone else! I don’t even wait to get home, most of the time. Ah…I guess that’s a little embarrassing. But I do take them home and read them a second time with my mom.” He paused, before turning again to the audience with a sly smirk. “So don’t write anything I can’t share with my mother, okay?” He punctuated it with a wink, and the audience screamed.

When he turned back, Shimooka just nodded at him with a small glint in his eye. He was an older man, well-accustomed to the business. He smiled softly at Mitsuki, knowing that the newly-debuted idol had them all eating out of the palm of his hand.

“Haha! Do you have any favorite letters that stick out in your mind?”

Mitsuki thought on it for a second. He did, of course. He had letters that he read almost every night. Worn around the edges and almost already torn. He had been scouted a mere four months ago, and it took him a while to start receiving fan gifts and letters. But already, he had read his favorites over and over again, until the words of encouragement were stuck in his head, repeating in his mind before every show.

His smile softened as he finally nodded, breaking from his usual loud and boisterous personality. “As a lot of you know, I’ve been trying to break into the business for a while. For a long time, I never thought it was going to happen. I thought that I should just give up, but I didn’t. And I get letters from people like that too, who tell me that I give them the strength to keep going. I read those when I get lonely, and they make me strong too. So I think those are my favorites.”

The cheer was almost deafening, and Mitsuki laughed again. His hands were shaking, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with them. He buried them into his lap, and focused his eyes on the host of the show, unable to glance over at the audience. It wasn’t his first interview, but he still wasn’t used to the crowd’s reaction, and he never knew when he was giving too much of himself away.

Still, the man before him seemed pleased, the twinkle in his eye never dimming. “You really are a big fan of idols, huh, Izumi-san?” He turned to the camera with a chuckle, giving a natural wink, as though he knew some kind of big secret that he was about to impart on the crowd. “Is there any idol group that you’ve always wanted to work with?”

Mitsuki knew the answer to that question of course, but he still took his time with it. He made it a show, stroking his chin and glancing left and right as he gave it careful consideration and thought. Finally, he hit his fist against the palm of his hand, as the answer occurred to him. “Of course! It has to be Re:vale!”

Almost all of audience let out a scandalized gasp, shocked at his answer. Even Shimooka blinked in surprise. Mitsuki couldn’t help but laugh. He burst out in a peel of laughter, waving his hands to dismiss the question all together. “I really fooled you, huh? Of course, it’s got to be IDOLiSH6!”

The TV host nodded in approval as the audience murmured amongst themselves. “Of course! Your little brother debuted with them almost a year ago now, huh? I hear he’s releasing a single with his fellow idol, Riku Nanase. You must be pretty excited about it.”

He was. He was more than ecstatic about it. He nodded enthusiastically. “Right! The song is called ‘Fly Away’ and the previews are already out online! You all better check it out!” He realized that he would probably get in trouble for promoting another idol’s music. But when it came down to it, being an older brother was his very first job, and no one was going to stop him from doing it.

“You really are a good older brother, aren’t you? You know,” Shimooka started, a little slowly, “Iori-kun and Nanase-san will be on my show promoting their song in a few weeks.”

Mitsuki nodded, having heard the news from his brother himself. “They are. And you _better_ treat them well. Not even the great Mister Shimooka is safe from the wrath of a big brother, you know!”

That would probably get him in trouble too, but Shimooka only laughed, and the audience laughed with him. “Well I wouldn’t want that! In fact…how about you take care of that instead? You said you wanted to work with IDOLiSH6, right? How about you interview them in two weeks? Right here, on my show?”

Mitsuki blinked, and then he blinked again. He leaned over in his seat, scarcely able to believe it. “Seriously?” he asked, leaning even further to look at Shimooka more closely, trying to figure out if the man was kidding. “ _Seriously_?!” He smiled and nodded, and Mitsuki almost fell out of his chair.

Instead, he adjusted himself, unable to contain the grin bursting out of him. Mister Shimooka wanted him on his show. Mister Shimooka wanted him to host an _interview_ on _his_ show. He laughed loudly. “Geez! You can’t just spring that on a guy like that! You nearly made me fall over! Of course I’ll do it!”

The entire audience cheered, and the sound of their applause and the light of the stage lights combined to a warmth brighter than any sun. And everything finally started to fall into place.

\---

“What were you thinking?!” His manager screamed as he made his way back to his dressing room. Mitsuki already had his face buried in his phone, letting his manager shout and fret as he followed the idol. “You can’t just speak to Shimooka-san so frankly! Just because he seems to like you doesn’t mean the next guy will. You need to read the atmosphere a little better.”

Mitsuki just shot the man a withering glance, and finally the manager relented with a small smile. “Fine. Congratulations. Shimooka-san told me that he’d like to make you a recurring addition to the show. As long as you don’t screw it up.”

Mitsuki grinned at him, and his manager just rolled his eyes. “So don’t screw it up,” he finally added, turning around to attend to other matters, leaving Mitsuki alone in the studio’s dressing room.  

FROM: NAGI  
_Oh! Mitsuki!! It was so good! Skipped Kokona-chan to watch!! (_ _ﾉ^_ _ヮ^)_ _ﾉ*:_ _・ﾟ✧_

Mitsuki smiled fondly. High praise from the otaku prince, that was for sure. He checked his phone for other missed messages.

FROM: TAMAKI  
_good job. U should interview mezzo next_

He laughed at that. He hadn’t gotten through his first interview, and already Tamaki was planning his next.

FROM: RIKU  
_Mitsukiiiiiiiii!! I can’t wait! Iori and I are going to practice super hard so you better be ready for us!_

FROM: SOUGO-SAN  
_Congratulations. You did quite well. I yearn for that natural confidence. I can’t wait to see what you have in store for Riku-kun and Iori-kun._

FROM: IORI  
_Please go easy on me, Nii-san._

Mitsuki fell onto the couch of the dressing room, kicking his legs back and forth in glee as he responded to every single message one by one. He was high on the rush of it. So high that it took him a moment to realize that every single member of IDOLiSH6 had messaged him except for one. And if he were being honest with himself, it was the one he wanted to hear from the most.

He sat up on the couch, wondering if he should message Yamato first. Yamato had been all over the place lately, so it wasn’t a surprise. Maybe it was a bad time. Maybe he was busy with filming. Or knowing that old man, maybe he had slept in and missed the interview entirely. Mitsuki frowned, hating the way his chest twisted at that thought. Yamato worked hard, in his own way, and deserved a little bit of rest. He didn’t have to watch every single show Mitsuki was in. He didn’t owe him anything. They were friends. Just friends.

His phone buzzed.

FROM: THE OLD MAN  
_beers on me tonight_

And just like that, Mitsuki was back on cloud nine.

\---

“Cheers!” Mitsuki nearly shouted as he clinked a bottle of beer against Yamato’s, lying back on his apartment’s couch as a news show prattled on in the background. In truth, Mitsuki was exhausted, winded from the whirlwind of a day he had. But when he looked over at Yamato, toasting him in return with a quiet smile, he felt completely awake.

Yamato put his beer down after a large swig and reached for another slice of pizza. Mitsuki had offered to cook them dinner, but Yamato insisted on ordering takeout, to give Mitsuki the night off. It was a nice gesture, but in truth, he wanted to cook for them. The man rarely came over to Mitsuki’s apartment. Usually it was just easier for Mitsuki to visit the IDOLiSH6 dorms. It was nice to be able to stop by and see everyone all at once, both his brother and all of his friends.

Still, it was just as nice to be able to spend some time with Yamato, all alone. Perhaps it was a little selfish, Mitsuki realized, but he wanted to be able to cook a meal just for Yamato. Just for him, at least once, and watch him savor his cooking between his lips. Still, being able to hang out with him alone was rare enough, and Mitsuki had to relish it while he could.

“I don’t know if Iori told you, but this might turn into an actual gig,” Mitsuki then said cheerfully. “At least, if my manager is to be believed. I pretty much have it in the bag. ‘As long as I don’t screw it up’,” he said, mocking the man’s deep, stern voice. Mitsuki laughed, remembering how high-strung his manager had been earlier that day.  

Yamato didn’t seem to find it all that funny though. He tilted his head, looking at Mitsuki carefully, his eyes cutting through his glasses as though searching for something very specific. And in an instant, Mitsuki went from feeling like the king of the hill to feeling impossibly small. He could barely get his mind around how quickly Yamato could make him feel that way. He just wished he had the nerve to tell him.

“Your manager treating you okay?” He asked, carefully. “Because if he’s not…” he trailed off for a moment. “If he’s not, promise you’ll tell me.”

There was something dangerous in his voice, as though he could destroy the other man, as soon as Mitsuki gave him the word. His eyes were dark, as though he could ruin the man’s entire life if he wasn’t treating the idol well. Mitsuki wasn’t entirely sure that Yamato had that kind of power, but in his eyes there was a fierce desire to protect his friend. And that alone was enough to leave Mitsuki’s throat completely dry.

“It’s…” Mitsuki’s voice cracked as he said it, and his face flushed in embarrassment. He grabbed for his beer, taking a long chug. “It’s fine! He’s just a little tightly-wound, is all! Actually, I’d say he’s a pretty good match for me, given my history with tightly-wound people.” He smiled a little, thinking about his brother. “Don’t go around giving people such a scary look. You look like you’re a yakuza or something.”

Yamato blinked, the spark in his eyes dying in an instant. A second later, he laughed, loudly and thoroughly. “Onii-san is just practicing for my latest role,” he confessed, waving off all of Mitsuki’s concerns. “Did I manage to really fool you?” He asked, a sly smirk slipping onto his face as he leaned forward to tease Mitsuki.

Mitsuki huffed, shoving Yamato away from his face with an exasperated sigh. “You’re going to get arrested for harassment if you keep going around doing that to people!”

“Aw, but Mitsu, don’t you know the only one I want to harass is you?” Yamato asked, never dropping the sly grin.

And that was almost enough to break Mitsuki right then there. Almost enough for him to knock away the beers and the pizza and crawl on top of him, right there on his apartment couch. He wanted to straddle him. He wanted to tease him. He wanted to be the one to do the harassing. And the way Yamato smiled at him- flushed over with alcohol and totally relaxed- was almost enough to push him to do it.

Almost, if not for the fact that Yamato was very clearly deflecting from something. Mitsuki sighed and took another bite of his own pizza, realizing that it was pointless to try to get him to talk about his feelings. “Perverted old man,” he finally said, without any venom in his voice.

And just like that, things shifted back to normal, with a six pack and a box of pizza in front of them, and a whole night to talk about nothing important at all.

\---

“You should come over for dinner some time,” Mitsuki finally said, as Yamato started to head out the door. He hated the way his heart was in his throat as he said it, but he couldn’t help the way Yamato made him feel. “A real meal, this time. Nothing greasy and packed with carbs.”

“Hmm? You say that, but you ate more pizza than I did, didn’t you Mitsu?” Yamato teased, flinching reflexively even before Mitsuki lunged forward to playfully punch him in the arm. Mitsuki then straightened back up, and Yamato nodded with a sigh and a smile. “I’ll let you know when I have another night free, I guess,” he said, glancing down at his phone awkwardly.

Mitsuki felt his heart sink. Yamato had been busy lately. Even when Mitsuki visited the dorms, he wouldn’t always be there. About once a week, he’d go out, refusing to tell anyone where he was heading. Sougo, one night, had confessed that Yamato always dressed himself up, and went out to what he suspected was some kind of dinner event. It wasn’t concerning, in and of itself, but Yamato didn’t seem to want to talk about it. If Mitsuki were a proper member of IDOLiSH6, he probably would have cornered the man to tell him the truth.  

But Mitsuki wasn’t a member of IDOLiSH6. And when it came to Yamato’s personal life, he really didn’t have much of a say, no matter how badly he wanted to be a part of it.

“Hey,” he finally said. “You know you can tell me, if something’s on your mind. You know that, right? I promise I won’t blab to Iori or your manager or…anyone.” He felt awkward, twisted as he said it.

All the acting prowess in the world couldn’t disguise the sadness in Yamato’s eyes as he smiled and nodded to the other man. “I know. Good night, Mitsu.”

Mitsuki was helpless to fight it, the demons inside of Yamato’s mind. He had tried since day one to beat them back, but he couldn’t do it if Yamato didn’t tell him what was wrong.

“Good night,” he finally said, nodding in turn as Yamato walked away. He shut the door, sinking to the ground for a moment as he looked at the ceiling. It had been a good day, he reminded himself. It had been a _great_ day. He couldn’t let Yamato’s own personal problems bring him down. He just had to wait. And then maybe Yamato would finally feel comfortable enough to open up to Mitsuki.

And then maybe Mitsuki could tell him exactly how he felt about the other man.

\---

“Okay! Next trivia question!” Mitsuki announced, two weeks later. “Riku-kun, how many legs does a lobster have?”

“Three!” Riku said loudly, very obviously getting the answer wrong on purpose. A few people in the live audience murmured amongst themselves, whispering the correct answer to their friends.

A loud buzzer sounded from off stage, and Mitsuki frowned cartoonishly, pretending to look apologetic. “Sorry! But a lobster has ten legs!” He looked over at the two idols, sitting at their makeshift gameshow table. A sadistic grin grew on his face as he looked over at his brother. “You know what that means…” 

“Punishment time, Iori!” Riku announced, all too gleefully as he passed the special drink they had prepared over to his partner. He had already been forced to drink from the Punishment Drink twice during the trivia game portion, and he was wincing in anticipation for the third time.  

“Why are you two doing this?” His voice was weak, defeated as the two others watched enthusiastically. Still, he grabbed the bottle obediently and cringed, pulling it to his lips.

Riku and Mitsuki looked at each other and smiled, shouting “Cheers!” with the audience as Iori took a big swig as quickly as possible. He chugged it, placing it down in a hurry and letting out a long breath. He coughed a few times, as though trying to get the taste of the lemonade and seaweed water out of his mouth.

Mitsuki smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry Iori! You just look so cute when you’re off your guard like that! I don’t get to see it that much anymore, since you moved away…”

“I forgive you,” Iori said automatically, staring at his brother. The audience erupted into applause, happy to see the two brothers getting along so well.

Riku laughed. “You really do have such a great face when you drink from that,” he agreed with a satisfied sigh.

Mitsuki couldn’t help but notice the light tinge of pink that brushed over his brother’s cheeks. He smiled, more to himself than to anyone else. Yamato had mentioned it in passing, but Iori really did have it pretty bad. It made sense; Riku was the kind of person that Iori liked to take care of. And in some ways, it seemed that Riku was taking care of his brother in turn. He was grateful.

“You two get along pretty well!” Mitsuki decided to say with a laugh. “I’m glad. All week, I was practicing intimidation so I could interrogate you, Riku-kun. But it looks like you’re taking care of my favorite IDOLiSH6 member just fine!”

Iori stiffened, his face blushing even brighter than before, shuffling his hands in his lap nervously as he glanced out towards the audience. Riku only looked over at Iori, and then back to Mitsuki. “Really? Iori is still your favorite? But don’t you carry that rubber strap of Yamato-san on your bag everywhere, Mitsuki-san?” 

The entire audience burst into curious babble, and just like that, the tide had turned. Mitsuki’s blood went cold as he thought of a quick recovery. He had been teasing the two so thoroughly, that he hadn’t expected to be teased back. Especially not in this way. He had clearly underestimated Riku.

“Ah…you saw that old thing?” He let out a loud guffaw, waving it off. “It was from a lottery! I had tried to get Iori’s strap, but I just got that old man instead. No one else wanted to trade for him, so I had no choice but to keep it.

“That’s a likely story,” Iori finally said, without missing a beat. “But I won’t accept anyone else as my brother’s favorite other than me.”

The audience laughed, charmed by the three them. Charmed by Mitsuki, and his brother, sharing a stage for the first time ever. And Mitsuki glanced from the camera over to his two guests, his two friends, and he felt like he was glowing.

\---

“That was wonderful!” Mister Shimooka took Mitsuki into his arms, ruffling his hair playfully as soon as the show had stopped airing. “He’s wonderful!” He then said, looking over to his manager with an approving nod.

His manager sighed, relenting with a small smile. Mitsuki only grinned in return. His manager might have had little faith, but Mitsuki had known he’d ace it all along. After all, as long as he was alongside his brother, there was no way he could lose. 

“We should make a full-time idol corner on the show! Every week!” Shimooka continued, snapping his fingers as he ushered over his own manager and producer, urging them to take notes. “Mitsuki-kun will host, of course. We have Honeyx2 coming by next week. And maybe the week after he can go out and scout for the best idol goods in Ikebukuro? You can interview fans!”

“You’re going to make me look like a crazy otaku!” Mitsuki exclaimed with a loud laugh.

He could see his manager open his mouth to argue, and apologize for Mitsuki’s frankness. But Shimooka only let out a howl of laughter.

“I love this kid! Where did you find him?”

“We saw some audition tapes. Couldn’t take our eyes off of him,” an unfamiliar voice answered from off of the sound stage. The group turned immediately, as an older gentleman in an expensive suit and Italian shoes stepped onto the set, accompanied by the president of Mitsuki’s production company. He was handsome, and somehow vastly familiar to Mitsuki. He racked his brain, searching for a name, but came up short.

“I’m sorry, you look confused,” the man chuckled as he approached the young idol, extending out his hand. “My name is Chiba Shizuo. I work closely with President Kakeshi. We’re filming an interview here soon, and I wanted to get here early to finally meet our company’s newest talent.”

Mitsuki’s mouth went dry. That’s where he had seen the face. That’s why he looked so familiar. Chiba Shizuo. _The_ Chiba Shizuo. It had been several years since the man had made a new movie but the features were all still there. He grabbed onto the man’s hand immediately, all of the movie star’s words swimming in his head. “It’s an honor to meet you! My mother is a big fan! I mean, I’m obviously a fan too. And I knew that you were signed to our company but…”

“Your mother, huh?” He interrupted Mitsuki’s rambling, sparing him of any further embarrassment. The young man sighed in gratitude. Clearly this was a man of immense experience. “My son is a big fan of yours, so I suppose we match up in some way,” he chuckled.

“Ah, your son?” Mitsuki wasn’t used to having many male fans. He had a few, as far as he knew, but his manager always stressed that his main demographic was female. So Shizuo’s words made him glow with warmth. It was nice to know he was getting one step closer to appealing to all kinds of people.

Shizuo blinked, as though he expected Mitsuki to know who his son was. Mitsuki panicked, briefly, wondering if his son was some kind of famous actor too. He really didn’t know as much about the entertainment industry as he thought he did. He was good with idols and plenty of music artists. But he was quickly realizing just how much studying he would have to do.

However, awkward moment seemed to pass, Shizuo smiling gently. Something about that smile felt familiar too, he realized. “I see. I should thank you, actually,” he finally said. “My son and I…we grew apart for some time. We had a lot of differences to settle. We’re still trying to settle them, I think,” he frowned, furrowing his brow as he thought about it. “But after he saw you, he contacted me. And he wanted to start our relationship anew. You inspired him. And for that, I’m forever grateful.”

That hit Mitsuki like a freight car to the chest. He was speechless, a dumbfounded smile creeping onto his face. He never thought he’d have that much of an impact on someone’s life. Much less a total stranger. It was almost too much to hear all at once.

“I’m sorry, I shared too much, didn’t I? I’ve always had a bit of a blabbermouth,” Shizuo laughed a little bit, seeing Mitsuki’s reaction.

“No! No not at all! That’s incredible!” The younger man was quick to defend, shaking his head of all of the feelings that were flooding him, threatening to overflow. “I should be thanking _you_ , actually. You said you saw my audition tapes. I owe you and Kakeshi-san all of my gratitude then,” he said, with a firm formal bow. And for the first time ever, Mitsuki saw his manager nod in approval.

Shizuo glanced over at President Kakeshi and nodded. “You’re a bright young man, and Mister Shimooka seems pretty fond of you. My son was right about you, after all.” He didn’t delve into what that meant, and Mitsuki had a feeling that maybe he shouldn’t ask. “I expect great things, and look forward to seeing more.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mitsuki to reel in his own star-struck excitement. Slowly, through the past few months, the feeling of being approved by someone was becoming less foreign to him. But sometimes, something would come along that would strike him, leaving him feeling dazed and breathless.

He remembered his favorite fan letters. He remembered Iori telling him over and over that he was going to be amazing, and that he was going to make it someday. And he remembered Yamato, standing in the kitchen, holding him close as he cried over another failed audition.

And finally, he felt like he could maybe make them all proud.

\---

FROM: THE OLD MAN  
_you really keep a rubber strap of me on your bag?_

TO: THE OLD MAN  
_Wouldn’t you like to know?_

FROM: THE OLD MAN  
_oh come on. its not like i stare at your belongings all day_

TO: THE OLD MAN  
_Come over and find out._

His palms were sweaty as he typed it, pacing his floor as he waited for a response. This was ridiculous. His crush was getting ridiculous. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying not to think about it.

However, two minutes later, when he heard it buzz, he nearly ran over to pick it back up.

FROM: THE OLD MAN  
_cant. busy tonight._

Mitsuki groaned, this time putting his phone back down, swearing not to touch it for the rest of the night. He felt heart sick, and stupid for even letting himself get his hopes up. And he wondered why even though he was getting everything he ever dreamed of, he still wanted something so much more. Something that he could almost grasp, but it remained just slightly beyond his reach.

\---

As it turns out, he wasn’t actually able to stay away from Yamato for very long. He ended up in the IDOLiSH6 dorms five nights later, cooking dinner on one of their rare days off. The JIMA awards were fast approaching, and everyone was working in overdrive to make themselves viable candidates for the newcomer award. Everything seemed to happening all at once. Mitsuki was only getting the story through text messages and newspaper articles, but he knew that it was high time everyone had a chance to relax and enjoy a family meal all together.

“You need to quit this life of being an idol and just live here as our personal chef,” Yamato informed him, with absolute certainty. He sat on the kitchen island, right behind Mitsuki as he worked on the marinade for the chicken he had roasting in the oven.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid you can’t afford me,” Mitsuki shot back, glancing over his shoulder.

Yamato just shrugged, standing up. He walked forward and grabbed for a plate of cookies that Mitsuki had baked earlier, and set aside to cool. Mitsuki swatted at his hand, trying to stop him, but Yamato couldn’t be stopped. He grabbed for the cookie anyway, popping it into his mouth and chewing it with a sly victorious smirk.

“These are good,” he informed the other man, and Mitsuki just rolled his eyes. Of course they were good. He hadn’t spent all those years learning how to run his parent’s sweet shop just to make mediocre cookies. “You’ll be a great housewife someday.”

Mitsuki turned away from Yamato in a flash, back to his mixing bowl, in a quick attempt to hide the way his face heated up. “I’d have to date in order to do that,” he said resolutely. “I’m an idol now, so I can’t just throw myself around willy-nilly. If I started dating, it would cause a scandal.”

He was acutely aware of how close Yamato was to him, nearly shoulder to shoulder as the taller man looked him over closely. “But what if you started dating another idol?”

Mitsuki looked over at him, despite himself. Was he really implying what he thought he was? He stared at him, trying to find some kind of answer on his face. But as usual, Yamato was a complete mystery, looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Then it would just be double the scandal,” Mitsuki replied simply, turning away from him again. He needed to find a way to change the subject, before he revealed too much. He moved away from Yamato, and sliced open a lemon for the sauce.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you! You’ll never guess who I met the other day,” he started, smiling a little bit as he thought of the perfect subject change. “Chiba Shizuo! That old movie star. Nagi’s a big fan of him, right?”

Yamato was completely silent.

He turned over to face him, and the man was simply putting the lid back on Mitsuki’s cookie container. There was another beat of silence between them, Mitsuki staring as a strange darkness filled Yamato’s eyes. The same kind of darkness that filled them when he said he was practicing for a role. Or when someone threatened IDOLiSH6. Mitsuki only blinked.

“Yeah,” he finally said, quietly. “I bet Nagi will be pretty excited.”

Another long beat.

“Onii-san’s getting pretty tired, Mitsu. I’m going to grab a beer and relax until dinner’s ready. So just let me know, okay?” He smiled, his eyes suddenly zapped of all energy, tired and full of feelings that he couldn’t find the words to express. And Mitsuki wanted so badly to force them out of him, but he couldn’t find the strength to do so.

“Will do,” he finally said with as encouraging a smile as he could muster, realizing he would just have to keep waiting a little bit longer.

\---

“Please, please, for the love of _god_ , tell me that you own a proper suit,” his manager said to him a mere two weeks later.

Mitsuki looked up from his phone, scrolling through gossip columns and sternly dismissing all of them. Iori was getting pretty shaken by the rumors surrounding IDOLiSH6. And while Mitsuki didn’t believe a single word any of them, he needed to at least know what people were saying if he wanted to defend his little brother and his friends. He was the host of his own idol corner on Shimooka’s show, after all. That had to have some pull towards dispelling the media.  

“Ah,” he said with a small smile, thinking about it for a minute. “I think my mother bought me one when I graduated high school?”

His manager visibly deflated, and Mitsuki barked out a laugh. “Come on, I _literally_ had a formalwear shoot last month. _You’re_ the one that scheduled it. I own suits. Why? What’s up?”

“Don’t play with me right now, Izumi. I’m up to my ears and I just got a phone call from Chiba Shizuo and I _can’t afford_ any more stress right now.”

That caught Mitsuki’s attention. He blinked a few times, trying to put two and two together to no avail. “Shizuo-san?” He hadn’t spoken to the actor since that day. The show was going well, and Mister Shimooka seemed continually impressed, but he hadn’t heard too much from the President save for some second-hand orders from his manager. And he hadn’t heard word of the company’s top star at all.

“Oh so _that_ caught your interest,” his manager scoffed, a smile on the edges of his lips. “Then you’re going to _love_ this next part. Chiba Shizuo has extended an invitation to one of his private dinner parties. His _exclusive. Private. Dinner parties._ I cannot stress how important it is that you attend and that you look like a presentable human being during it.”

“Dinner parties? Is that like a regular thing he does?” Mitsuki tilted his head, wondering why he had never heard about this before. They were working for the same company, and Mitsuki was slowly climbing up the ladder. People often talked. But he never heard about any dinner parties.

He rolled his eyes. “God you really live under a rock. Yes. Yes he does these every so often and yes, major players in the industry always attend. And yes, this is a very big step in your career. And before you ask, yes, I’m pretty sure he invited you for a reason.” Mitsuki opened his mouth, but his manager was on a roll, and could not be stopped. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m almost positive he has a job offer on the table for us. For you. And it _likely_ has to do with Black or White coming up in a few months.”

Mitsuki’s ears tingled as he heard those words, his heart skipping a beat. Black or White. If IDOLiSH6 manage to win the JIMA, then they were guaranteed a spot at Black or White. Nothing was written in stone, of course. But if he could somehow end up at that event…

“When is it?” Mitsuki’s eyes sparked in determination. Whatever it was, he’d do it. He was going to get on that stage, no matter the costs.

“Tomorrow night. I’ll let them know to expect us,” he said, with a nod as he pulled out his phone. “And Izumi? Please _try_ to do something about your hair.”

Mitsuki rolled his eyes, glancing back down at his phone. There were some gossip articles that he had yet to look at. Including one with Yamato’s name blazoned across the headline. He closed out of the tab without so much as skimming it. He didn’t need baseless rumors right now, not when everything seemed to finally be looking up.

\---

Mitsuki didn’t really know what to expect when he arrived at the VIP room of some five-star restaurant he had never heard of. Everything seemed to be sparkling around him. There were women in shining cocktail dresses, men in suits with expensive cufflinks. The silverware, the chandeliers, the glass décor around the room. It was constant and blinding, and it was hard not to get lost underneath it all.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Kid! It’s just free food and a chance to make a few new friends,” Shimooka laughed jovially as he pulled out his napkin and made a show of tucking it into his collar. “Besides, you look like a million bucks.”

Mitsuki nodded, though he didn’t feel like a million bucks. The suit was nice, accented with a pale orange waistcoat and tie. His manager assured him that it made him look ‘slim’ and accented his ‘charming waistline’. But in the end, it only served to make Mitsuki feel small, an ant in a sea of industry giants.

Still, it was nice knowing that at least Mister Shimooka was beside him. He had never been invited either, as it turned out. This is what had tipped his manager off to believing it had to do with Black or White, as Shimooka was a key player for the event. Knowing this only made Mitsuki more nervous.

“Ah, they’ve arrived!” A young woman’s voice said from just inside the door. Everyone turned to attention, some standing to their feet as Chiba Shizuo arrived. The woman cleared her throat, making her way to the table to grab her glass. Everyone moved forward to do the same, raising their champagne flute to greet their host. Mitsuki did the same, sweaty hands streaking across the pristine glass. “Ladies and gentleman, Chiba Shizuo, and son,” she resounded clearly.

Just like that, Chiba Shizuo entered. And even the suffocating brightness of the room couldn’t compare to his refined and composed aura. His stern, hardened eyes twinkled as he greeted the young woman with a kiss to the cheek, moving into the room quickly to start shaking hands with his guests. His eyes drifted towards Mitsuki, for only a moment, and Mitsuki swore he saw the man smile and wink at him.

And then Chiba Shizuo’s son entered. And it felt like all the shining, sparkling glass in the room shattered, all at once.

Everything seemed to darken as Mitsuki’s eyes narrowed down to Yamato, and only Yamato. He was smiling, softly, his eyes lost in a trance as he mindlessly shook hands after his father. The resemblance was clear now, Mitsuki realized. It wasn’t outwardly obvious, but when Yamato was cleaned up like this, everything seemed to fall into place.

Their eyes met, and Mitsuki stiffened, nearly shooting out of his seat to run to him. The only thing that stopped him was Yamato’s shocked expression, his eyes widening with nothing short of abject horror.

But the look was gone in an instant, washed away underneath a sad, hardened smile. Mitsuki only stared.

“Wow. He’s pretty handsome when he cleans up, isn’t he?” Shimooka asked, quietly surprised. It was clear that he had no idea either, but managed to play it off better than Mitsuki was.

“He’s…” Mitsuki searched for the words, unable to look away, his mind reeling. “Yeah.”

And he _was_ handsome. But he was _always_ handsome. Now he had his hair pulled back a little, and was wearing a suit that showed off the full width of his shoulders, and the shape of his waist. He looked cleaned, polished, and shaped into the form of a perfect gentleman. He was striking, almost downright irresistible.

Only, that wasn’t what Yamato Nikaidou looked like.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, Shizuo approached him and Mister Shimooka, who jumped of his seat to shake the man’s hand. Mitsuki followed in turn, his body moving automatically. Everything seemed to be on autopilot, his brain unable to focus on anything at all. Mister Shimooka was saying something, but the words sounded like static.

“Is this where you’ve been going?” he finally said, his own voice bringing him back to reality. Yamato blinked, as though coming out of a trance of his own. “You’ve been getting all dressed up and coming here?”

Before Yamato could answer, Shizuo stepped in with a laugh, his voice as thick as honey. “Ah! You two are acquainted then? I had wondered, but Yamato never quite told me.” He reached out to shake Mitsuki’s hand, just as before. Only this time, Mitsuki hesitated before taking it. His hand felt hot, and uncomfortable against Mitsuki’s sweating palms. “I’m glad though, as I would like for Yamato to be your host for the evening. Please take care of my newest guest.”

Both young men turned to the actor in shock, and Mitsuki felt like he had been punched in the throat. ‘Newest guest’, as though Mitsuki was one of thousands. As though he were a new acquisition in some ever-expanding collection. He should have felt proud, to be counted among the elite. But there was something in his voice, and something in Yamato’s eyes, that only made him feel sick.

“Of course. The honor is all mine,” Yamato said with a stiff nod and a soft tenor to his voice. He took one step forward, pulling out Mitsuki’s chair for him to have a seat. Mitsuki looked up at the man as he did so, and Yamato just nodded. When he was fully seated, Yamato’s hand rested on Mitsuki’s shoulder, and he squeezed, as though trying to tell him something that Mitsuki didn’t understand. As though he were trying to spell out an apology that Mitsuki didn’t know the words to.

Shizuo sat down next, leaving one seat open for Yamato, immediately to Mitsuki’s right. Yamato paused before sitting down, leaving Mitsuki an opening to lean over to look at the older man. “I had no idea,” he finally said, unable to hold it in any longer. “I had no idea Yamato Nikaido was your son.” Yamato’s fingers twitched against his shoulder, before removing his hand altogether.

“Of course,” Shizuo laughed genuinely, pulling out his napkin and opening with grandeur. “After all, who do you think showed me your audition tapes?”

Mitsuki looked up at Yamato again, who wordlessly slid into his chair and grabbed his napkin. He tucked it into his lap, staring straight ahead, avoiding Mitsuki Izumi altogether.

\---

The longer the dinner party went on, the more of a stranger the man next to him became. Yamato was every bit the host his father expected. He spoke smoothly with the other guests, he always made sure that Mitsuki’s drinks were full, and every time Mitsuki spoke, he didn’t take his eyes off of him.

Mitsuki would have delighted in all of the attention, if he felt like even an inch of it wasn’t entirely forced.

“Yamato,” Shizuo spoke up, placing down his champagne glass as he glanced over next to him. “Your little idol group. They’re nominees for the JIMA award this year.”

“That’s right sir,” Yamato nodded, with a polite smile. Mitsuki almost gagged.

However, Chiba Shizuo beamed, and Mitsuki remembered what he had said. The two had drifted apart for a time. It was possible that Shizuo had no idea that this was all an act. That Yamato would never slick back his hair, wait on someone hand and foot, and call his father ‘sir’. It was possible he had never seen the sloppy, laid-back, drunkard that Mitsuki came to know. The man that drove him to auditions, and always ate his cooking with a smile on his face, and took care of his brother when he couldn’t get a chance to. The man that Mitsuki had somehow fallen for.

That man wasn’t here right now, and in his place was Yamato Chiba- the perfect son of a legendary movie star. And Mitsuki desperately wanted his own Yamato back.

“You’ll win. I’m absolutely sure of it,” he said with a smile as he cut into his steak daintily. He spoke with all the certainty of a father who believed absolutely in his son, but Yamato responded with little more than a nod. “And after, it’s onto Black or White, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Yamato responded curtly, taking a small bite of his own steak. Nothing more.

“And that actually brings me to our guest for the night,” Shizuo then said jovially, leaning over to look over at Mitsuki. The idol put down his fork and snapped to attention, glancing around Yamato to meet the older man’s gaze. “Do you want to tell him, Mister Shimooka?”

Shimooka laughed from the other side of Mitsuki. “I’ll leave the honors to you, actually.”

“The producers informed me that they are looking for an MC for Black or White this year. And considering the idol focus of the program, I thought it would be fitting to have an idol as a host. Ideally someone who isn’t competing, of course. And perhaps…”

“I’ll do it!” Mitsuki nearly shouted, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. That was an incredible opportunity. One that would likely never come around again. One only gets so many offers to work on such a high-profile event. Much less _host it._ His manager would eat his heart out when he heard about it. He looked over to Mister Shimooka, wondering if he had been the one to toss his name around. The other man just shrugged, a goofy grin firmly on his face.

And then he heard a small voice whisper from next to him. “Congratulations, Mitsu.”

Just like that, he was back to reality.

Shizuo started hashing out some of the details, and started making plans to contact the company president and Mitsuki’s manager. Mitsuki couldn’t focus on the words though, hoping Shimooka was paying better attention than he was. Yamato had gone back to eating his meal, like he hadn’t said anything at all. And it occurred to Mitsuki that this was what he wanted. This is _exactly_ what he wanted. He wanted to stand on the same stage as Yamato Nikaido, side-by-side. And if things worked out, he could do it.

But he suddenly realized that he didn’t want to stand the man sitting right next to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m _really_ sorry. But this is a lot. Can I…I need to use the restroom,” Mitsuki announced, probably interrupting Shizuo in the process. He didn’t care. He needed to get away. He turned to Yamato, feigning a wide smile. “Will you escort me, _my gracious host_?”

Yamato visibly grimaced, unable to hide his dread. And for a moment, Mitsuki felt a small pang of victory. The other man glanced over at his father, who merely nodded. “Of course, Mitsuki-san,” Yamato said, and Mitsuki could _hear_ how desperately he was trying to control his voice as he said it. He stood up, waiting for Mitsuki to follow him.

As the both walked out of the VIP room, Yamato made a show of wrapping his arm around Mitsuki’s waist, as though that were simply another part of his job tonight. And Mitsuki resisted the urge to move the hand, suddenly feeling like Yamato was squeezing the life out of him.

\---

“What was that all about?” Mituski demanded as they barely entered the restroom. “What’s…this,” he gestured to Yamato’s entire being, “all about? You look ridiculous.”

“I could say the same about you,” Yamato shrugged, trying to sound unaffected. “Did you put gel in your hair or something? It looks so stiff…” he reached over to comb his fingers through it, as though nothing had changed between the two.

Mitsuki swatted his hand away.  “Cut the _crap_ Yamato. For once just cut the crap. Please.” He tried desperately to keep his voice controlled. This was his only chance to get some answers, and he couldn’t have any concerned parties interrupting. “Do you think I’m dumb? Do you think _any_ of us are dumb? They all knew you were going out. They all knew you were _miserable_. Iori told me all the time, like I could change it. Like I could _help you_. And I wanted to. I tried. I waited for you to tell me what was on your mind. And then I find out that you’re going out pretending to be someone you’re not?”

Yamato opened his mouth, but Mitsuki wasn’t finished. “You hate being there. You hate this. You’re not ‘reconnecting with your father’, or whatever crap he told me. You’re _lying to him_.”

Yamato’s eyes went dark, the clouds finally clearing as Mitsuki’s words began to cut into him. “This doesn’t concern you, Mitsu.”

“Like _hell_ it doesn’t!” Mitsuki nearly shouted, his voice bouncing off of marble walls before remembering himself. “He told me that I _inspired_ his son to reach out to him. But that was a lie too, wasn’t it? I didn’t inspire you at all, did I? You ran to him, and you _begged_ him to watch my audition tapes. Because you thought I couldn’t do it on my own.”

He expected Yamato to argue. He _wanted_ Yamato to argue. He wanted him to prove him wrong. He wanted him to believe in Mitsuki. Just once he wanted someone to honestly and truly _believe_ in him. He always had Iori, but he had _craved_ approval from someone else. Anyone else. Just someone who would make him feel worthwhile. And he thought he finally found those people.

But in the end, they just pitied him too.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And that was all he said.

Mitsuki nearly exploded. He nearly punched him, before realizing that he would have to explain any marks he left to Chiba Shizuo. Instead, he simply clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. “Then _tell me._ Just…please. Tell me,” his voice softened, unexpectedly. He grabbed onto Yamato’s wrist, eyes pleading. And Yamato stared at him, for a long moment, before finally pulling away.

“You know these events are just parties he designed for mindless gossip and sharing dark little secrets, right? It’s just a bunch of big names in entertainment, talking about all those horrible little things that they don’t want the media knowing about,” he scoffed, pulling at his tie to loosen it from his throat. “And in the end, I’m one of those horrible little secrets.”

Mitsuki blinked, but didn’t say a word, silently urging Yamato to continue.

“That woman that my father calls his wife. That’s not my mother. My mother was a maid in his household. And my father, he lied. He lied away her existence, and mine. And he lied to me. He told me whatever I wanted to hear. And I grew wise to it. And I grew sick of it.” He said it like it was so simple, but suddenly it all started to make sense.

“You joined IDOLiSH6 to expose him. That’s what you meant by having ignoble goals.” he finished, and Yamato just looked away, towards the mirrors that lined the bathroom walls. “But you had to suck up to him to get me a job, is that it? You had to lie to him and tell him you forgave him. You lied and attended these events that you hate. You lied to all of your _friends_ and told them that you were okay when you weren’t. Wow. Maybe you should sit down and actually _talk_ to your father. Because for someone who hates him for lying, you two sure do have a lot in common.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Yamato hissed, the dam finally broken. “Just be quiet. You want to hate me? Fine. Hate me. I don’t care. I’m going back. Just…stop talking.”

And Mitsuki did.

\---

After IDOLiSH6 won the JIMA award, Sougo had been the one to invite him along for a celebratory dinner. Mitsuki kindly refused, and said nothing more on the matter. He said nothing to anyone, really. He sent a few congratulatory messages, and sat on his bed with a container of takeout, watching some late-night talk show make predictions for Black or White.

FROM: IORI  
_You should have come along tonight._

Mitsuki glanced down at his phone sitting next to him and frowned. It really wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his award. And it wasn’t his victory. He was happy for his brother. He couldn’t possibly be happier for his brother. But he couldn’t shove himself into a place where he didn’t belong. Besides, he couldn’t risk making things awkward for any of the other members of the group. It really was for the best.

Plus, he figured the longer he stayed away from Yamato Nikaido, the less he would be so deeply in love with him. One day those feelings would turn completely to disappointment and disgust. And then finally they would evaporate into nothing at all.

TO: IORI  
_That’s alright!! I didn’t want to intrude! We can have a celebratory party of our own at the sweet’s shop some day!_

FROM: IORI  
_You know, he misses you._

Mitsuki ignored that.

FROM: IORI  
_And I miss you too. I’m sorry._  
  
He couldn’t ignore _that_. His heart twisted, realizing how selfish he was being. His heart was broken, and his own stubbornness had broken it. And he wasn’t sure if he could fix it but he didn’t need to let Iori stew in his older brother’s misery. That would just put even more stress on the boy.

TO: IORI  
_I miss you too. I’ll see you soon, okay?_

He sighed, tossing his phone across the bed and rolling over onto his stomach. He opened up the drawer to his nightstand, stuffed full of his favorite letters. His secret stash for when it was all too much, when he needed to turn to someone that he wouldn’t end up hurting. There were plenty of them, but there was always one that sat on top. Nearly torn at the folds, with the ink running some of the words into obscurity. It didn’t matter. Mitsuki had read it enough to know it all by heart.

But he held it between his fingers anyway, letting his eyes drift over the words over and over until they started to run together, until they started to lose meaning. And he closed his eyes, repeating the words in his head until he drifted off, and found himself in a terrible, dreamless sleep.

\---

“He’s in his room,” Sougo smiled gently as Mitsuki entered the dorms with a container full of fresh scones. The man shut the door behind him, and looked around he common room. Nagi was leafing through some magazines, and Riku was holding out flash-cards as he quizzed Iori for one of his classes.

“Eh? But Iori is…”

Sougo only stared at him, skeptical. Everyone else looked up at him, happy to see him but resolute in their cause. Iori must have told him he was coming; otherwise he was certain Nagi would be wrapping his arms around him, and that Tamaki would be out here, begging for one of his scones.

“He’s in his room,” Sougo repeated, more firmly, without that soft smile. And it became clear that Mitsuki really didn’t have a choice. Riku had turned back to talking to Iori, and Nagi grabbed for another magazine, feigning innocence. He sighed.

“You’re all really going to ignore me until I go talk to him?”  

“Yep!” Riku said with a pop of his lips, before Nagi gently hit him to remind him of their plan, holding a finger to his lips.

“I’m sorry, Nii-san,” Iori’s voice was soft, glancing up from his flash cards quietly. His eyes were begging, and Mitsuki’s stomach felt sick looking at it. And there wasn’t enough broken pride in the world that could keep him from being a good big brother. He could put up with a little bit of heartbreak if it meant seeing his little brother smile again.

“Fine,” Mitsuki said, even though his throat was dry. Even though his veins felt like they were on fire. He had come all this way, after all. “I’ll be back,” he finally said, every footstep feeling heavy, all the way to Yamato’s door.

\---

There was a poster of Mitsuki on Yamato’s wall, and Mitsuki had no idea how to react to that. The man wasn’t one for decorations, as it turned out. But there he was, in his stage outfit from his first performance, grinning at the camera as he jumped. He would have commented on it, if he didn’t still have Yamato’s rubber strap dangling from his backpack. He supposed that in the end, they could never really escape each other.

“You wanted to talk?” Yamato went to sit back down on his bed, chewing on a scone as he stared at Mitsuki. His face was completely devoid of expression. His eyes looked heavy, like he hadn’t slept since the dinner party. And for all Mitsuki knew, he hadn’t. In truth, Mitsuki hadn’t slept all that well either.

“I…I did,” Mitsuki said, lamely, the words falling flat in front of him. He did want to talk. But he had no idea what he wanted to say. He just wanted this to go away, this awful, tangled feeling inside of him that was pinching all of his internal organs at once.

Yamato didn’t say anything in return. He just stared, and waited.

“I don’t…” Mitsuki took a step forward, half expecting Yamato to move from his bed to get away from him. “I don’t want to hate you,” he finally confessed. “I _don’t_ hate you. I want to be able to come to the dorms and I want to be able to see you without feeling like I killed a piece of you that night. For the sake of my brother, and the others, I just want to apologize. Tell me how I can apologize.”

And as though he had been pushed, Yamato fell back on his bed, feet dangling off the side. Mitsuki walked forward, to inspect the other man. He was staring up at the ceiling, eyes listless and exhausted. His skin looked sallow, and Mitsuki had to admire the makeup department for managing to hide it during their TV appearances. Because right now, on his bed and unguarded, Yamato Nikaido looked absolutely wretched.

He leaned over, in attempt to make eye contact with the other man. He thought that maybe if he did, he’d get some clues on what he could do or say to make him come back to life. He thought for maybe a second that he should just lean down all the way, and kiss him, as though it would break the spell that seemed to be clouding his mind. He almost did, but thought better of it. He straightened back up, and started to move away.

As soon as he did, Yamato grabbed his wrist, stopping Mitsuki in his tracks. The man sat back up, as though the words finally occurred to him.

“You’re wrong, by the way,” he finally said, his voice low, and tired.

Mitsuki blinked in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

“You said that you didn’t inspire me,” Yamato clarified, and Mitsuki’s ears began to burn. Yamato sighed, glancing away from Mitsuki to look at the poster on the wall, as though it were easier to talk to.

“The first time I saw you, I was content to let my life slip by me. I wanted to go through the motions, and take the easiest route to get to what I wanted. Even my dreams felt far away, and unimportant. They probably were. But the thing is, dreams change, as it turns out. And you helped change them.” 

Mitsuki ripped his hand away, reflexively. He had heard these words before. No, he had _seen_ these words. Over and over again, engrained into his skull. He could almost picture the ink, bleeding through the paper, spelling out the words Yamato was reciting in front of him.

“When I saw you smile, I felt like something was pushing me forward. Like something wanted me to _try_. You were working so hard for your dreams, and I was so complacent to just stew in mine. I realized that hated that about myself. But watching you grow as an idol made me want to change that. Made me feel like maybe I could.”

The words were paraphrased, but there was no mistaking it. Mitsuki was terrified for a moment that Yamato had somehow broken into his room. But no, Yamato knew the words too well. He had run them through his head, turning them over just as many times as Mitsuki did. Trying to get them perfect.

Mitsuki began to cry.

“You save me from a life of mediocrity, Mitsuki. You may never realize it. You may never even know that I exist. But you saved me and you pushed me to find something worthwhile to fight for in my life. And I…shit.” He broke away from his recitation, as though he had forgotten the script that he himself wrote. “I want to fight for you.”

Yamato stopped, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. “Sorry. I failed on that end, didn’t I?”

Mitsuki shook his head, wiping his eyes. Yamato had been fighting for him for a long time, after all. And Mitsuki had succeeded because of it. He had gone about it wrong, perhaps. He had thrown himself away along the way. But he had fought valiantly. And now it was Mitsuki’s turn to let Yamato rest for a little bit, and to get back the pieces of himself that Yamato had tossed aside.

He moved forward, until his knees were touching Yamato’s. Their eyes were completely level as Yamato sat on the bed, Mitsuki directly before him. And finally, Mitsuki smiled, unable to hold himself back as he spread his legs and slid right into Yamato’s lap.

Yamato nearly fell backwards, and for a horrifying moment, Mitsuki thought that he had been wrong about all of this. That they were really just friends. But after another moment, Yamato smiled back, eyes filling with shock and wonder and _life._ For the first time in months, Yamato looked like he was _alive,_ rather than simply living.

Slowly, Yamato’s hands rested around Mitsuki’s waist, as the smaller man slid forward until he was fully straddling him. Mitsuki’s face hovered over his, nose bumping against the bridge of his glasses with a smile. “Aren’t you going to tell me how you feel about me, Mitsu? It’s only fair.” Yamato smiled slyly, hands inching downwards to the hem of Mitsuki’s shirt, eager to feel more skin.

Mitsuki hummed teasingly. “Mmm let’s see,” he pondered for a moment. “Win Black or White and then maybe I will.” He was a variety show host, after all. And soon he’d be a famous MC. It was his job to keep things interesting.  

“You’re the worst. You’re really going to make me work for it?” Yamato groaned, craning his neck up to brush his lips against Mitsuki’s nose. And when Mitsuki didn’t pull away, he moved over to pepper kisses along his cheek, and then his jaw, and then…

He stopped right before his lips.

“You know we can’t _date_ , right?” Yamato said, with utter seriousness as he pulled back to meet Mitsuki’s eyes. “If the media finds out we’re involved, and finds out all the crap with my father…”

“You’ll talk to your father,” Mitsuki said with utmost certainty. He was certain they could still talk things out, that Yamato wasn’t as fractured a man as he thought. Yamato said he was willing to fight for him. And he wasn’t going to let that fire die. “Anyway, no one said we had to _date_. Not as far as the media needs to know. We can just be two idols. Who visit each other’s dorms sometimes. And go out shopping together. And cook meals for each other.”

“I don’t cook,” Yamato said quickly, and Mitsuki laughed. In truth, he supposed they had always been inches away from this. Now they were just finally closing the distance.

“And someday, maybe, I’ll become a superstar, and I’ll leave Kakeshi Pro and go freelance,” Mitsuki mused, gently moving his hands towards Yamato’s glasses. The man didn’t argue, his eyes fluttering shut as Mitsuki’s fingers gently brushed against his face, pulling the glasses off and setting them to the side. “And then maybe, IDOLiSH6 will put Takanashi back on the map, and they’ll come hire me as one of their talents.”

With a gentle push, Yamato was back on his back, and Mitsuki crawled on top of him, successfully pinning him down. Yamato looked surprised for only a second, before a smile crept on his face, relaxing into Mitsuki’s hold. “Ah? We have to earn enough money to hire the Great Mitsuki Izumi? That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Then you better work hard,” Mitsuki grinned, predatory as he lowered himself until he was practically grinding against Yamato. He lowered his head until their lips were nearly brushing, so close to everything Mitsuki had wanted, for so long now. “Or else I’m going to completely outshine you.”

“You always have,” Yamato confessed, in a quietly astonished whisper. And he moved his head up to close the gap between them.

\---

A week later, Mitsuki was finishing the frosting on a cake when he heard the bell to the shop chime. It had been a while since he could get a day off to go to the dessert café, and with Black or White approaching, things would only get busier. He needed time to surround himself with something familiar, if just for a day or two.

“Mitsuki!” His mother called out from behind the counter, “Can you take care of these customers? I’m trying to fix the coffee machine again. I just can’t get it right,” she huffed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. He knew the woman was up to something, but Mitsuki still nodded and untied his apron, pulling off the bandana that covered his hair as he made his way into the body of the shop.

“I didn’t know you were such a fan of sweets, Yamato,” a familiar voice chuckled warmly as Mitsuki rounded the corner. “Or was there another reason you picked this place for our lunch date today?” Chiba Shizuo teased his son, winking as soon as he and Mitsuki made eye contact.

Shizuo was in a suit, as he always was when Mitsuki saw him. But Yamato was dressed down, in his old worn down jeans, with rumpled hair and rolled-up sleeves. “This place in particular isn’t so bad. Even when the clerk comes out with flour in his hair and icing on his cheek,” he shrugged, smirking at Mitsuki as the man bristled at the criticism. He wiped himself clean in a hurry, and both Yamato and Shizuo laughed, deeply and honestly.

And finally, Mitsuki could see the undeniable resemblance.

“Besides, things change,” Yamato said, his eyes carefully trained on Mitsuki as he spoke, a smile still on his lips. Mitsuki only nodded. “Taste buds, people, dreams. They all can change. Sometimes they just need a little push.”

Shizuo nodded, looking over at his son, and then over to Mitsuki. And then back again. He nodded, as though approving of something, and Mitsuki couldn’t help but feel nervous. “I’m happy for it,” he finally said.

Mitsuki beamed, finally watching the two men come to some kind of unspoken agreement. That they finally changed enough that they could come back and find a place where they fit in each other’s lives. Because of him, he realized, staring at Yamato. His heart felt like it was bubbling over, and it was all he could do to keep himself from leaping over the counter and into the other man’s arms.

“Now, enough babbling,” Mitsuki finally said, pulling the two’s attention back to him. He tapped his pen against a memo pad and grinned. “What will it be? Your usual coffee, Old Man?” He asked, pointedly looking at Yamato.

The other man chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m tired of that. Give me something new,” he said, taking Mitsuki off guard yet again. “Surprise me.”

And Mitsuki laughed, intending to do just that.

\---

“And the winner is…” Mitsuki tried desperately to control his shaking hands as he tore open the envelope. The others hadn’t been this difficult to open, he recalled as he ripped at the paper desperately, cursing himself silently. The entire audience laughed at his struggle, and Mitsuki made a show of it as he finally pulled out the winning card, holding it in the air as he loudly announced. “IDOLiSH6!!”

He said the words before his brain even registered them. But as he looked at the card, they were, in fact, printed there. His brother’s idol group. The winner of their category in Black or White. And he felt like his own dream had finally come true.  

And as Yamato ran onstage to join him, he realized that it had.

**Author's Note:**

> A super big shout out to [bluecranes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecranes/pseuds/bluecranes) for allowing me to bounce of ideas for this monster off of her. You're a champ. And a huge thanks to Rokarca, for being my soulmate, my sunshine, and even my beta-reader sometimes. Thank you so much to everyone for reading!


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